A Long Way From Home
by Akuma Shisou
Summary: Fearing for the safety of his family, a French Ministry Official signs a mission contract. A young Chunin is assigned the task. With two teammates assisting from the shadows, he must guard the man's daughter. Rating and Genre might change.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: This is my first fanfiction so go easy on me. I've ready a lot of Naruto/Harry crossovers and noticed that stories about Naruto protecting Fleur instead of Harry are very few indeed so... also I decided to create an original character as I felt using Naruto was too common a route.

Chapter 1: Arrival.

"Monsieur Delacour?" a maid poked her head through the door, "you have a guest."

"At this hour?" a middle aged man looked up in puzzlement. Then understanding dawned. "Please send him in."

The maid nodded. "This way Monsieur." she beckoned to the unseen visitor, giving him a curious look as he passed.

Jean Delacour stood to greet his guest, a pleasant smile adorning his weary face.

"Welcome to my home. You have had a long journey I take it? Camille," he called to the maid. "could you bring some refreshments." as she hurried off, he motioned the newcomer to sit.

"Thank you but I'd much rather stand." was the reply in accented English. His visitor looked around the room taking in the layout. While he did so Jean took the opportunity to study the newcomer. The initial surprise of seeing how young he was had worn off and Jean now felt doubt as he looked at the boy in front of him. The boy's look of childlike curiosity as he took on the sights of the spacious room did not help to bolster his opinion. As if he had sensed his thoughts, the eyes of his guest slowly fixed on him. For a long moment that boyish face studied him and Jean felt himself grow cold as the features shifted. Staring at him now was the look of a predator trying to gauge the strength of its prey; a killer analyzing his target, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And as quickly as it came, the features shifted back to that pleasant, slightly meek look. The boy then dipped his head.

"Delacour-san?" he asked a little shyly.

Jean nodded slightly wary. His guest continued. "My name is Shiro Inikaze, the shinobi that was picked for this mission." At Delacour's doubtful look, the boy laughed sheepishly. "You weren't expecting someone so young were you? I am capable enough for this task despite my age, or I wouldn't have been picked. For someone in your position you should know not to judge a book by its cover."

So saying, he took off the cloak that concealed his body and folded it over the proffered chair before clasping his hands behind his back.

"I assume you know what you've been hired for?" Jean asked while eyeing with mild interest the attire of his guest. The boy before him was dressed in a rather dull manner but compared to the decorative robes wizards wore, quite eye catching. His apparel was entirely black save for a padded green vest that covered the entire upper portion of the body. The shoulders were reinforced with further padding that was held in place with steel buttons while protecting the back and sides of his neck was a thick neck-guard. Covering his head was a dark cloth, the front of which a plate of metal was attached. Engraved upon the metal was a strange symbol shaped somewhat like a leaf.

"I do Delacour-san," the boy replied. "You've requested a shinobi to guard one of your daughters who is currently attending the Beauxbatons School of Magic. Why though?"

Delacour sighed and stood up, the eyes of his guest following him as he paced back and forth. "Being a ministry official is not a pleasant job. Treachery and backstabbing is all too common behind the scenes. It is all the more worse since most of those in important positions are members of old families; those who follow the traditions from decades past, the pure bloods so to speak."

"And you have butted heads with these purists I assume." His guest spoke up, "I know you Jean Claude Delacour. High ranking Ministry official, close to becoming the Head Minister. Married to half Veela Appolline. Has two daughters both quarter Veela, Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour. I can only presume with such a marriage you are not popular with those bigoted purists. In fact I hear you are on particularly nasty terms with the Moreau family. Are your relations that bad with your enemies that you fear they will attempt to harm your family?"

Jean shot his guest a sharp look which was returned with a smile. "The Wizarding world does not know about us save a select few and even then, the number is tiny. Those that do are bound by the threat of death to keep our existence secret. Just like you hide your existence from those you call Muggles, we hide our existence from you wizards. That does not mean we ignore you. Oh no, that would be foolish to leave a possible enemy unobserved. We have our infiltrators. Now tell me, what do you know of us?"

"I know that you are a group of assassins who for a fee accept a wide variety of tasks." His guest gave a slight hum and when he spoke again, his tone was amused.

"And you hired an assassin to guard your daughters. From what I read of your profile, idealism, honesty, and virtue, are the traits you adhere to. That you would hire a person who specializes in deceit and murder is surprising to me."

"And I am not pleased with it. I had and still have doubts, all the more so at seeing what I paid for. You look no older than my daughter Fleur."

"And yet I have experienced and done things that would make a normal person cringe. I made my first kill when I was ten. Yes Delacour-san," Shiro responded to his client's startled look, "at ten I killed my first person. Gone was his boyish look, replaced instead with an icy gaze. "It was a simple escort mission but bandits attacked. I was matched with a big fellow that wielded a chained scythe. I evaded all his strikes and seeing an opening, dived in and plunged my kunai into his throat. As he collapsed clutching the wound, his life force pooling from the hole in his throat, the realization that I had taken another person's life struck me full force. I froze up, staring at my victim as the light in his eyes dimmed. The voice of my team leader shouting at me snapped me out of my daze, and just in time to avoid a fatal strike from another bandit. The mission was a success but I lost a teammate that day. I am grateful that I had been temporarily switched to another team. For had that been a member of my original team with whom I graduated, I think it would have broken me. I've toughened up now and while I don't enjoy killing, it is an unavoidable act in a shinobi's life."

Silence again befell the room. Jean was currently at loss on what to say. To imagine this young man, no boy, in front of him was a trained killer and had killed at so young an age was sobering. His guest for his part watched him dispassionately awaiting his reaction. Fumbling in his mind to break the sober atmosphere, Jean was grateful as his maid after knocking, entered bearing a tray of pastries and some drinks.

"Thank you Camille." She gave a slight courtesy and left leaving the two occupants alone again. Eager for a change in subject Jean sat back down and indicated the tray.

"Won't you partake in these sweets? These vanilla flavored butter cookies are delicious."

His guest eyed him with amusement and back was that deceptively meek look.

"After we have finished discussing the mission details, then I would be happy to try some of those delicacies. You haven't answered my first question, why the request for protection? Are they not safe here?"

"My daughter will be leaving France soon. There is an important event called the Triwizard Tournament. It is a competition between three great wizarding schools. The Beauxbatons, the Dumstrangs, and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The event will be hosted at Hogwarts. The school is situated in England. My daughter Fleur has pleaded with me to go and despite my worries I have granted her wish."

"So you fear these enemies of yours will make some harmful attempt on your daughter when she is out of your reach. This mission is marked as a high C rank. Still I cannot see much danger. I know of Hogwarts. Your daughters would be under the protection of the British ministry and guests of one of the most protected schools in Europe. It would be highly foolish to make an attempt on your daughter while she attends Hogwarts."

"Perhaps that is so," Delacour responded. "But even a most secure place can be broken into and I have already paid for this mission. I just pray my fears are unfounded."

A gentle look seeped into the eyes of his guest. "I might not seem capable to you Delacour-san but on my honor as a shinobi, I will do my utmost to protect your daughter."

"And what if events should prove more than you can handle?"

"Then back-up will be sent. It has already been prepared."

Jean noted the fondness that appeared on the boy's face. "People you know?"

"Yes," Shiro responded smiling, "My original teammates. Those lazy bums now work as gate guards or assistants to the Hokage." At Jean's enquiring look, Shiro clarified, "The Hokage is our leader. He is the shadow that protects and commands us all."

"I still have doubts," Jean spoke carefully, eyeing his guest and trying to gauge what reaction his words would have. "A very good friend of mine recommended your kind. He insisted that I could find no better protection for my daughter than hiring a shinobi. I did not know anything about shinobi at the time but as he gave me an overview I was less than pleased to hear that he was recommending assassins. Were it not for the fact that I trusted him implicitly, I would not have dealt with you."

Shiro's face had grown slightly steely by the end of Jean's last sentence.

"I asked you before but now I will ask again. How much do you know of us?"

Seeing the killer surfacing in the face of his guest, Jean decided honesty was the best course of action. "I was mostly truthful before. You are assassins that accept a wide variety of missions. Despite being killers, you have a code of honor and morals that most killers for hire would not have. When accepting a contract you become loyal to a fault, doing the utmost to complete the mission. You have strong bonds with each other and those you protect and would not hesitate to give your lives for those you consider dear. That is all I know of your kind. My friend did not care to go any deeper than that."

To his relief, Shiro's face returned to its pleasant countenance. "That is more information than you should know Delacour-san. Tell me though, who this friend of yours is."

Jean hesitated, at which his guest chuckled. "If you fear him becoming a target, do not worry. To recommend us so, he must be well known to us." Shiro paused for a moment then glanced up with a smirk, "he is Armand Pouly correct?"

"How di-" Jean began.

"How did I know?" Shiro interrupted him, his face the perfect picture of innocence. "As I said before we have spies in your world. I read your file before I was sent here. After all, information is very important to us ninja." Shiro's eyes hardened slightly. "I trust when you signed the mission contract, you made the promise all wizards who know about us must make: To not reveal us on the pain of death and death to those you shared our existence with."

Jean nodded, his face slightly pale. "Yes. I made that promise."

Shiro hummed softly before finally sitting down. "That is good. Now may I try those tasty looking treats?"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Homesick.

Shiro's eyes flew open and his hand crept under the covers and closed over a kunai. He refrained from leaping out of bed but tensed in preparation. There were soft footsteps outside his room. Straining his ears, he listened to the footfalls. They were soft, the owner obviously taking care to be quiet but they moved with a steady purpose. Realizing it was most likely a servant of the house, Shiro forced himself to relax only to bolt out of bed at the sudden squawk that shattered the eerie stillness of his room.

The bird that had been sitting the window sill squawked once more then flew off. Pursing his lips with a wry expression, Shiro sheathed his blade and glanced at the wall clock. 4:30 am, still time to get a little more sleep; not that he'd be able to, he mused as he walked over to the window and opened it. He was a light sleeper when in unfamiliar places a trait all ninjas generally shared; the habit born from the constant threat of having your throat slit by an approaching foe while in deep slumber.

He stood staring out the window when a soft breeze moved to greet him. Shyly did it brush past, its fingers tentatively ruffling his hair. Enjoying the touch, he leaned out further. The breeze was delighted. It reached forward, slowly at first but with increasing boldness and began caressing his face, relishing at how his eyes closed at its gentle ministrations. Sadly it could not stay. With a final lingering touch the breeze danced away and Shiro opened his eyes, disappointed at the loss of contact.

For several minutes he stood there observing the moonlit grounds of the mansion, his ears soaking in all the sounds of the dewy morning. From the grass he could hear the morning songs of the insects as they trilled and chirped their joy at a fresh day. As if determined not to be outdone, the wall clock chimed in with its ticking. Tick tock, tick tock, it went, the seconds passing away and becoming minutes. Yet he still stood there bathing in the peacefulness of the early morning. Tick, tick, the clock went, dead set on getting him to move and finally he did, only to flop back into bed.

He really was a long way from home, he reflected as he lay there in silence, his arms behind his head. Long missions taking place far from the village were no strangers to him but only once had he set foot outside the Elemental Nations. Already he could feel the longing pangs worm into his heart making it ache painfully. The Village Hidden in the Leaves was like a welcoming mother. Every time he stepped through the gates, a feeling of love and security swept over him. This was his home, he was safe, his friends would be around ready to welcome him. Returning to his apartment was like a lover's embrace; secure and cozy. But what he missed the most was the little boy he had taken in and come to love like a young brother.

Uzumaki Naruto was the boy's name. An outcast shunned for a burden he didn't know he carried.

It was a dark night when a fearsome demon known as the Nine-Tailed Fox appeared out of the darkness and attacked leaving death and destruction in its wake. Shiro could remember it very clearly. Who could ever forget that night. Thunderous footfalls were the first warning of its approach and even the stoutest of Leaf Ninja paled as they witnessed its advance. Bravely did the advance guard try to halt it but they were massacred to the last man and woman. The main force of Leaf Ninja then attacked lead by Sarutobi Hiruzen also known as the God among Shinobi. They fought with the ferocity of a lioness defending her cub, caring little for their lives as the demon batted them aside. It was only with the arrival of the Minato the Fourth Hokage did they defeat the demon but it came at a great cost nor was it killed.

Being a massive being of pure chakra, the Nine-Tails was impossible to kill, but it could be sealed. And that is precisely what the Fourth did. He sealed it into his newborn son Naruto at the cost of his own life.

Hiruzen regarded the crying infant during the aftermath of the battle. He picked up the child and hushed it softly. He sighed heavily thinking of the trouble that would arise if it became known that this boy was the son of the Fourth. After reassuming his role as the Third Hokage, he gave the orphaned child his mother's name to conceal his relation to the Fourth. Hiruzen also passed a law in the village that no one was to speak of the demon sealed within the child, hoping that Minato's dying wish that his son be seen as a hero be honored, but sadly the people who had lived through the devastation that the Nine-Tails brought forth were unable to do so. And though most obeyed Hiruzen's law, with those who didn't being severely punished, the children of the village also came to fear and dislike Naruto simply because their parents did.

Thus Naruto came to live alone, shunned and ignored for a reason he didn't know. The fatherly visits from Hiruzen did not do much to fill the hole in his heart.

Shiro himself harbored no ill-will towards the child but he felt wary about approaching him. It was only a natural reaction considering the boy housed one of the strongest demons in existence. That slowly changed as he observed the cold treatment Naruto had to endure. Following him home one night and observing him crying, Shiro decided to befriend him.

He intercepted Naruto the next day and purposely bumped into him. Naruto had promptly screamed a slew of insults at him to which Shiro brushed off and apologized profusely. Startled, the boy had regarded him warily for this was the first time someone had actually bothered to acknowledge him. Taking his purse, Shiro waved it tantalizingly and offered to treat the boy as an apology. That was the start of the bond that formed between those two. Overjoyed to find somebody that didn't shun him, Naruto had taken to seeking him out each day. The two would often be found together, Shiro treating him to meals and helping in the boy's ninja studies as Naruto had chosen that career with the goal of becoming Hokage. A fact he would proclaim nearly every day. One night, Shiro was awoken by soft knocking. Opening his door he found Naruto outside. The boy looked down shyly and asked if he could sleep with him. Shiro had chuckled softly and fetched an extra blanket. He fell asleep with Naruto snuggled against him. Soon afterwards he offered Naruto the opportunity to live with him. Shiro was promptly tackled with a flying hug and his vest was dampened with tears.

As expected the village residents did not react well to him having taken in Naruto. Shiro became a partial outcast, most of his friends distancing themselves. But there were a few that remained loyal. One was Iruka, a young academy instructor and fellow Chunin. He too had been wary of Naruto but in time regarded the boy with great fondness. Izumo and Kotetsu were another pair. They made Naruto their partner in crime, a fact Shiro would often sigh at whenever he found himself the victim of a prank.

It was with great surprise one day when the Hokage showed up on his doorstep. Hiruzen had entered and after greeting Naruto with grandfatherly affection, asked to talk in private. He questioned as to why Shiro had befriended the boy and his eyes gleamed with pride as Shiro explained himself. He did not say much but thereafter Shiro would occasionally find himself playing host to the most powerful man of the village. With the Hokage's visits, the hostile feelings directed towards them diminished quite a bit and Shiro hoped that one day Naruto would be accepted.

These thoughts and memories kept him company as he lay in the room's dark embrace. As the clock ticked closer to dawn and light began to chase away the darkness, Shiro sighed and got up. What will this day bring he wondered.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A meal with the Delacours.

"Hmmm…" Humming with a thoughtful expression, Shiro looked at his gear lying beside his bed pondering on what to wear. He had just finished showering and clothed himself in his standard apparel that consisted of a simple black shirt and pants albeit with hidden pockets, he was a ninja after all. The sun was now shining brightly and no doubt his client would send for him soon. Right on cue someone knocked on the door. Opening it slightly he found the maid from last night waiting. She curtsied when she saw him and said, "Monsieur Delacour is about to begin breakfast. He would like you to join him if you have no objection."

Shiro smiled pleasantly. "Thank you Camille, that is your name right?" at her nod he continued, "Please inform him I will be along shortly." As she backed away Shiro asked in afterthought, "He is in the dining room correct?"

"Yes." She replied but asked, "Do you know where it is? I can take you."

"No need," Shiro answered and his face adopted a slightly mischievous look. "I did some late night touring."

When she left, Shiro returned to the bedside and briefly regarded his equipment before strapping on his shuriken holster and a pouch into which he slipped several kunai. As he wrapped bandages around his shins, he considered wearing his flak jacket but decided that provided too armed an appearance for a casual breakfast. Speaking of which, his plain clothing was probably an eyesore considering what he observed so far of the French nobility standards. Not that he cared for their opinions; it was always fun to scandalize people. Now with the bandages fully secure he slipped into the open toed sandals all ninja wore and reached for his black gloves before deciding against it. Satisfied he left the room but not before slapping a piece of paper inlayed with several markings onto the door. A quick motion of his hand and it faded.

Camille was waiting outside the dining room when he appeared. She smiled but as he moved to open the doors, her look became one of expectant interest. It instantly put him on guard. For a long moment his hand stayed on the handle while his brain rapidly cooked up various improbably scenarios. It was impossible that there was someone waiting to ambush him. Not impossible, just unlikely his mind whispered. But then what? Did his client prepare something to test his abilities? That seemed doubtful as well. But he had to decide quickly as the maid now looked inquiringly at him.

"Are you all right?" She asked.

"Yes. Forgive me." Shiro answered preparing to enter fully expecting some form of attack but just then another scenario was thrown to the front. "Tell me," he said to her, "is Mr. Delacour alone?"

Her face took a surprised look and with the slightest hesitation she answered that he wasn't; his wife Appoline was with him.

So that was it. He had been briefed about the Veela race of course, semi-human beings of breathtaking beauty that exuded an aura of seduction which few were able to withstand.

If they lured men to them with this aura then the effects would be similar to Genjutsu meaning he should be able to resist but this wasn't just a single attack with Genjutsu which he could expel with ease. The effects would be constant if it was aura like. However this was all theoretically analysis. Shiro frowned internally. He wasn't pleased at the prospect but chuckled softly at the paranoid ideas he had cooked up. Now that he knew exactly what to expect, they seemed almost absurd. So bracing himself mentally, he entered and was promptly struck dumb.

The blond woman sitting next to his client was absolutely breathtaking; even the most miniscule aspects of her, such as the way her hair curled around her shoulders and the slight tilt of her face as she looked up at him, added to her hypnotic charm. Shiro was dazed. It was like this creature was calling to him, beckoning him to come closer and he felt himself doing so. Try he might, but he found himself unable to break out. It was like struggling in a mire of thick sludge. With what still remained of his awareness he tried to force his hands into the sign of the Rat. The way of expelling illusionary effects but it was hopeless. His movements felt slow and heavy just like being trapped in a bog. Summoning every scrap of will he could scrape together, he forced his eyes shut. The effects lessened but the image of her burned its way into his mind's eye. But this respite small as it was, allowed him collect himself and mercilessly drive out the foreign influence.

Finally having succeeded in regaining control of himself, Shiro opened his eyes. The brownish orbs frosty with irritation fixed themselves on Delacour's face. He wasn't free, he could still feel the allure beckoning to him but this time he was able to keep it at bay.

"You of all people should know the effect a Veela exudes Mr. Delacour-san." Shiro said lightly. "A warning would have been nice unless this was some test of yours."

Jean stood to greet him, impressed that the boy had fought off the allure. He had indeed purposely arranged for the encounter being curious but seeing the boy or rather the killer gazing at him with irritation made him second guess his decision. Though assured of the loyalty shinobi showed their clients, he had no wish to test that.

"It wasn't in order for me to do that," Jean apologized. "But you understand I was naturally curious to seeing your reaction to the allure. You will be guarding my daughter after all."

Shiro looked at him steadily then turned his gaze to the woman who was his client's wife. Surprisingly the allure was much weaker now. "So you can control your allure it seems." He remarked to her.

The woman rose gracefully and moved to greet him. "I do apologize as well," she said offering her hand. "You are correct. Veela can control to some extent how much allure they exude." She gave a motherly smile. "I am Appoline. I'm grateful you accepted the task of protecting my daughter."

Shiro scoffed lightly. Now without the allure clouding his mind, he could think normally. She was still beautiful but she now lacked that hypnotic almost godlike image. "I don't enjoy these false pleasantries Mrs. Delacour," He said. "How do you really feel? I know you are far from grateful. I can see the aversion in your eyes. You're repugnant at the thought of having someone of my profession protecting your daughter."

Appoline was taken aback. "I assure you that is not the case." She protested.

"Not the case?" Shiro repeated. He fixed her with an impassive gaze. "I have worn many masks Mrs. Delacour and I can tell when one is poorly worn. You resent me, and I know that is the truth. Regardless of what you think about me, you can be assured of my loyalty. And secondly I didn't accept, I was ordered."

He turned away and addressed Jean who sat looking very uncomfortable at the exchange. "I apologize. I hope we can continue this meal with grace and civility. May I sit here?" he added.

"You may." Jean answered as his wife returned to her seat beside him. The meal proceeded in silence, the whole atmosphere one of awkward tension with neither party willing to speak. Shiro sat daintily picking his way through the foreign dishes, his mind busy conjuring up the possible dangers that could arise on his job while the Delacours sat side by side, unsure of what to say to the young shinobi. And so the only sounds were the scrapings and light clinks of silverware as the owners mutely poked away at the dishes.

"Tell me." Shiro spoke up suddenly. "When would you like me to depart for Beauxbatons?"

"Today," Jean replied. "I have arranged for an automobile. It will arrive around lunch time. I wish I could come with you and explain things personally to Fleur but that is sadly too arduous for someone with responsibilities. There is another ministry meeting I have to attend to."

There was slight crunch as Shiro took a sizable bite out of a crisp roll. "So your daughter doesn't know then I take it?" he said after swallowing. Another bite and the roll disappeared.

"She doesn't and I fear she will not react well to this." Delacour paused as he thought over his next words. "She is… rather headstrong and not afraid to speak her mind. I fear you will find her hard to deal with."

Shiro bared his teeth slightly, Fleur's description not sitting well with him. Combined with the social standing of her family he summed it up in one sentence. "She's one of those snobby arrogant brats isn't she?"

Appoline looked up in surprise and offense and Jean though none too pleased about the insulting question laughed.

"I see you are not shy about speaking your mind as well.

Shiro shrugged and tore into another roll. "I've had to provide protection for the children of important officials in my career and nearly all of them were stuck up weasels." he ground his teeth at some of the more unpleasant memories. "Ahh behind my mask of humbleness, I took great pleasure in imagining torturing those little scoundrels." The last word being spat out with a venomous sneer.

Appoline regarded him with small smile. "It's good to see you still are human." Shiro turned to face her, his head slightly tilted in a questioning glance. "I expected a killer to be cold and unfeeling but it seems you still possess a childish nature that can easily be riled up.

"You know nothing about us so don't make assumptions." Shiro said laying down his utensils. "A childish nature?" he repeated with a sudden expression of weariness. "I don't know. I've done cold blooded things that would kick your notion of my being innocent and yet I can recall plenty of times when I acted like an immature brat."

Shiro sighed and stared into the distance. "I ask myself whether I'm a good person and it's a puzzle I have not been able to solve. Well," he continued, shaking himself out of his reflection. "I assume you will be giving me a letter to explain things to your daughter. And of course a note to the Headmistress of Beauxbatons," he added after a pause. "I can't very well show up without proof of my purpose."

"That has already been completed." Jean said smiling at the shinobi's surprised look.

"I see. In that case might I be excused? I would like to prepare myself before the departure. I also wish to discuss a few minor things afterwards."

Jean nodded his assent. "You can find me in my study later. I will be there all morning."

Shiro stood and inclined his head in farewell before skulking away. No one lay twitching on the floor outside his room which was a good thing for two reasons: First it meant nobody had been prying and secondly his client would not be pleased had one of the maids been shocked into a half conscious state by his trap. It wasn't the best idea he realized, holding his hand up to the door. Slowly the paper shimmered into existence. He pulled it off and entered.

Despite the obvious fact that nobody had entered, Shiro went over his equipment with a critical eye. Satisfied that everything was the way he had left it, he slipped into his vest and began the process of arranging and equipping himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: I've edited the description of Shiro's appearance in Chapter 1. I hope it's a bit's better now. Thank you for that heads-up RogalDorn.

As for his eye color and a more detailed mention of his gear, I've decided to bring that in steps.

Chapter 4: Arrival

He could hear it long before it arrived; the automobile Jean Delacour had arranged for him. Its engine revving as it strained up the steep road. Shiro watched the noisy contraption distastefully as it rumbled to a halt in front of the mansion gates.

"How long?" he asked the French Ministry official. "How long will the journey take?" he said again at the man's questioning look.

"Several days at least." Jean answered him. "But unless you encounter any difficulties, it should not take a week."

Shiro hummed softly in reply. That particular response Jean noted seemed to occur whenever he was in thought or felt a verbal answer was unnecessary.

"Can you tell me anything about Beauxbatons Delacour-san?"

"Only what is generally known. Beauxbatons was built several hundred years ago in the Pyrenees, a large range of mountains in southern France. It is a prestigious school and only the wealthy and noble attend it."

"So in other words, it's a school of spoiled rich brats."

Jean laughed at the boy's disdainful expression. "You will find them very courteous and graceful. I do not know what you experienced in your homeland but here in France, polite conduct is heavily stressed among the aristocratic class. To sneer down on those of lesser standings is frowned on. One must always be as gentlemanly as possible in all interactions. Of course there are some families who believe themselves to be far superior," Jean amended as a skeptical look was directed his way. "These I believe would fall into your category of arrogant brats. Regardless," he continued, "you will not have to stay long as the time for the tournament is near."

"That is comforting to hear." Shiro said pushing himself off the gate bars. He stretched himself tautly, groaning in slight pain as the tension in his body accumulated, then relaxing his muscles, he sighed heavily in relief as the stress dissipated leaving his body feeling as smooth as fluid. "Well," he said cheerily, spreading his arms and doing a slow turnabout, "How do I look?"

"Well equipped, very professional." Jean answered amusedly. He studied the young shinobi more carefully. It struck him as he took in the details that he had no idea how these people fought. The boy was dressed as he was when he had first arrived except for some minor additions; He now had two belts around him. One was positioned around his stomach, acting as a hold for a short blade attached behind him. The other was placed in the normal position around the hips and from this hung an odd assortment of holsters and pouches.

Jean saw that the boy now also had his hands covered in dark gloves. A sheet of metal of the same make as that attached to the bandanna he wore, minus the leaf shaped symbol, provided protection for the knuckles. As Shiro shifted his arms Jean detected four small holes in the metal plating. These holes were intricately drilled into the space just between each knuckle. Curious he questioned their purpose and a slight shudder rippled through him as Shiro reached into a pouch and with lot of rattling brought out a short metal spike which he screwed into one of the holes.

The elderly man could very well imagine how those spikes were used. But what puzzled him was that all he had seen so far suggested that shinobi killed their victims with muggle devices. He knew these shinobi were not wizards, but if they fought likes muggles, just how could they defend themselves against magic?

So many thoughts and worries plagued him. Ah if only he had never joined the French Ministry of Magic. Truly being in a position of authority was a curse; and now with the upcoming meeting on who to elect as the new Head Minister.

He and Pierre Moreau were the two candidates. The thought of being in proximity with that man caused a fresh set of worry to cascade over him. He started slightly as a hand was laid on his shoulder. He looked up into the pleasant countenance of Shiro. The boy was smiling gently, almost with understanding and sympathy. It was strange to see such emotions on the face of a killer.

"Do try not to worry too much Delacour-san," Shiro said, his words soft and soothing, "Your daughter will be safe, on my honor as a shinobi. And so will you."

"What do you mean by that?" Jean asked confused. The boy didn't reply immediately, instead he slipped into his dark cloak.

"The shadows will watch over you." And with that cryptic statement, he entered the automobile. The vehicle drove away leaving Jean to ponder on those last words.

Perhaps it would have been better not to have said anything, Shiro thought as they drove along. Ninja operated best in total darkness but it couldn't be helped now and maybe circumstances would eventually reveal his hidden help. That was is if this Moreau fellow was as sinister as he was told. But that wasn't his concern now. His concern would be the daughter of this French official, Fleur Delacour. He patted his cloak, feeling the vest that was underneath just to reassure himself the letters for both Fleur and the Headmistress of Beauxbatons, Madam Maxime, were still safe.

"Excuse me," Shiro said suddenly, tapping the driver. They had hardly gained much distance from the Delacour mansion but an elderly man hobbling along the road with ragged pack caught his attention. "Can we please offer him a ride? He looks like he needs it."

"Are you sure sir?" The driver asked dubiously. "I don't know about picking up strangers. My task is to get you to Pyrenee."

"Oh I am certain."

The car slowed to a stop beside the man who looked at least sixty. Wrinkles marred his face and his grey hair stuck out in all directions. His clothes were dusty and had obviously seen better times.

"Hello there." Shiro greeted him, smiling in a friendly light but his eyes possessed a conspiratorial look. "Can I offer you a ride?"

"That would be much appreciated lad." The old man answered him. "I have been traveling on these old legs for way too long."

"We're headed to a small town at the Pyrenees. Is there any place we can drop you off along the way?"

"Pyrenee you say? That just happens to be where I'm headed."

"Lovely!" Shiro said happily. "We'll be happy to take with us."

The driver sputtered but Shiro quickly silenced him with a stern look. Shrugging helplessly the man started the car once more and they proceeded once again.

During the journey, Shiro chatted with their passenger and with much laughter the two became well acquainted. It turned out the old man lived like a vagabond. He tramped from place to place doing odd jobs to survive. Despite his thin and ragged appearance he was perfectly content with his life. His reason for heading to Pyrenee was to visit a family member.

The driver was not all pleased with the extra company even more so when they stopped for the night at an inn.

"Do you expect me to pay for him?" he protested. "The money Monsieur Delacour gave us for traveling expenses did not include three people."

"Do not worry." Shiro replied. "I will personally cover his costs."

Soothed, the man had dropped the matter and once he lay fast asleep in his room, Shiro crept out. He gave the innkeeper a friendly nod as he passed and then stepped out into the night. The moon was covered by grey clouds but still rays of silver light managed to pierce through the fluffy mass. Looking around him to make sure nobody was near, Shiro tensed then leaped straight up to the inn's rooftop. There he settled himself gazing down at the ground below.

The old tramp stepped out moments later and looked up causing a grin to spread across Shiro's face. Then with grace and agility that most certainly did not fit a man of his age, the vagabond leaped up just as Shiro had done and stood beside him.

"Hello Kotetsu." Shiro said in his native tongue as the man exploded into a plume of smoke. When it dissipated there stood quite a different character. Long black spiky hair, a single strip of bandage that ran across the bridge of his nose and the Leaf symbol emblazoned on the metal attached to his cloth band. His attire was a mirror of Shiro's.

"Ah," the previously disguised shinobi groaned. "Keeping up that form all day was a real strain."

"Don't relax too much, we still have a couple more days ahead of us."

A weary groan was the answer. Shiro laughed heartily and turned his gaze to the quiet landscape. He still missed his village but having a friend with him helped to ease the aching strings in his heart.

"I miss Izumo." His friend whined out. "Was it really needed to have him stay behind?"

"Maybe not, but better safe than sorry in my opinion. This Pierre Moreau character sounds like those scheming backstabbing court officials we've had to deal with before."

"Ah those power struggle plots we got swept into once." Kotetsu nodded his shaggy head.

"Yes that was an interesting mission to say the least, but about Moreau. He and our client are the two candidates for the next election to who will become the Head Minister. Jean-Claude is an honorable fellow and will no doubt win in normal circumstances but…" Shiro trailed off and looked pointedly at his friend.

Kotetsu quickly caught on. "But we can expect Moreau to try and sabotage his chances."

"Yes. Our concern is the safety of this girl Fleur but according to Jean there's bad blood between these two families. If Moreau wins the vote and gets the seat of power, chances are he's going to make things tough for our client."

"You don't think he would have him assassinated?"

"I find that doubtful. He got his seat, he upstarted his rival. It's no secret the bad relation those two families share. If he were to have our client killed, he would only draw suspicion to himself."

"But he's the Head Minster now. If the crime was to be committed, he would make sure that there is no conclusive evidence to point to him."

"That is true," Shiro admitted. "But Moreau has few supporters being the racial bigot he is. To reach his current position in the ministry he must have used blackmail, bribery, treachery, and all the underhanded things you can expect. I find it unlikely that he would damage his already poor reputation further by killing our client. They may not be able to prove it but the suspicion will be there."

Silece lapsed over the two shinobi. They stood as still as statues on the rooftop's edge. Only when the clouds partially cleared and the moon illuminated them in its rays did they unconsciously step back into the welcome shadows.

"Needless to say," Shiro spoke at length, "I don't want anything to happen to our client." He smiled drily. "He is the one paying for this mission after all. I've also come to like him. He's a good person, unlike us."

"That depends on your definition of good." Kotetsu said somberly but he couldn't help adding with dry humor, "but yes, he's no murderer."

The two shinobi laughed at that. "If Moreau gets the seat," Shiro began after their mirth settled. "Then he would probably focus on making things unpleasant for our client before targeting his daughter. On the other hand if Delacour takes the seat, then he might go after his daughter instead."

"Probably would." Kotetsu mumbled thoughtfully. "If he can kidnap her then he can force Delacour off the seat."

They fell silent again, basking in the peacefulness of the night and each other's presence. Eventually it was with a yawn when Shiro clapped his companion on the shoulder. "I'm going to bed and you should too. You'll want to rest and recover your chakra for tomorrow."

Kotetsu turned away grumbling at the prospect. Shiro watched him go then turned his gaze to the sky one last time before creeping back to his room. The two shinobi were both up before morning broke, Kotetsu back in his guise of the old tramp. They had a hasty meal and sat awaiting the driver who appeared two hours later surprised at seeing them ready. After he had eaten they were off again.

The next three days proceeded as the first. They would spend each night at an inn or continue on till the next town if there were no lodgings nearby. At each stop Shiro and Kotetsu would meet in private for short conversations, the latter mostly complaining about the strain of holding his transformation technique and it was with great relief to him when they arrived at their destination. At least until Shiro reminded him with glee that he would be camping in the wilds outside the school.

"I'm beginning to think your whole plan of keeping our presence secret is more to torment us than surprise our possible foes with a hidden kunai." Kotetsu said to him before walking off to visit his 'relative'.

Shiro waved at him in farewell before following the driver who led him to a path into the mountain range. Seeing the trees surrounding them on all sides filled him with energy. The urge to jump onto a branch and leap from tree to tree was immense. It wasn't home, but it felt like it. Focusing his senses he could detect Kotetsu's chakra signature as he followed them from the trees. He could almost feel the teasing grin that was no doubt directed at him.

For an hour the driver led them up the mountain range until in a huge flat clearing stood the massive palace of Beauxbatons. Shiro gaped at the size and beauty of the school. The French really put great effort into beauty he thought. Next to him the driver looked quite smug at his reaction.

"Stunning is it not Monsieur?" He said. "I have done as Monsieur Delacour has ordered. I will take my leave."

"Thank you for your time." Shiro said bowing his head in farewell. Once the man had departed Kotetsu landed next to him with a low whistle. "If only the feudal lords could see this." he said in awe.

Shiro nodded in agreement. "Find a nice spot to camp Ko," He ordered. "And make sure not to be detected. I'll see you tonight."

With a blur he was gone and Shiro was left standing alone. He approached the ornamental gates and glanced about. The school grounds were surprisingly empty. He tried the gate but found it locked. With no other option, he leaped over it and landed with a crouch. Now if only he knew where to go.


End file.
